


Bed With Benefits

by thefourofswords



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bickering, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Prone Bone, Steve McGarrett Continues to be Extra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:40:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23335528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefourofswords/pseuds/thefourofswords
Summary: "Quit doing that!" with a hand gesture for Steve’s everything.Steve cranes his head back over his shoulder and shoots him the look he only ever reserves for Danny. "Oh, I'm sorry, is this too much for you?"*Danny and Steve can *always* find the time to argue.
Relationships: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Comments: 35
Kudos: 300





	Bed With Benefits

**Author's Note:**

> Couple of things. First, I CAN'T BELIEVE THE ARCHIVE DOESN'T HAVE A TAG FOR PRONE BONE! 
> 
> Second, many hands make light work. That or all my friends are super bored because we're being good citizens and social distancing. Thanks go out to fakexpearls, dandelionwhiskey, and turningterrific. Fakexpearls doesn't watch so her first note was: "Is it supposed to be awkward?" Which made me laugh a lot. Also all of Danny's best lines were definitely supplied by dandelionwhiskey. Turningterrific and I had a very valuable discussion on whether or not Steve would use the word "orgasm" or a euphemism. You'll just have to read to figure out what we decided. Thanks, guys. Love you all. 
> 
> Third and last of all, this is set sometime in the last couple of episodes. Just hoping that finale isn't gonna do us all completely dirty.

Danny is not complaining about _everything_ Steve is doing (“that’s a complete fabrication, Steven”). There’s really no need for Steve to dramatically roll over onto his stomach with an overblown sigh and a crisp, “You know what, fine, if you can do so much better, do it yourself!” 

Danny’s not super pleased by this development. He doesn’t know why Steve can’t just listen when he tries to explain what he wants. Nevermind that he’s still super turned on, eyes on Steve's beautifully muscled frame; those powerful shoulders and intricate tattoos and the vulnerable line of his spine over flexing buttocks as he lounges on his stomach, impossibly, wonderfully naked, and ordering Danny to fuck him. Because even though they’re snapping at each other, they both know this is going somewhere good. They’d have pulled up stakes long before it got this far if they hadn’t known that. 

"You can't just rush these things!" Danny yells, frustrated and fond, because even though Steve makes him want to bang his head on the wall and throw things and very often scream in inchoate rage, there is nobody he has ever, ever resonated with more. He loves every inch of Steve—even the parts that he hates. 

{It seemed profoundly in character that after years of not really knowing what to do with his feelings for his pigheaded best friend, they’d finally be driven to fuck by an argument about where he was going to sleep now that Junior was back. He’d (gently) pointed out that sleeping on the couch was not conducive to his long term health, which of course Steve had scoffed at.

Danny did not respond to this dismissal well.

Steve had thrown his hands up and said, “Fine! Sleep in my bed then.” 

“With you in it?” Danny replied acerbically. 

“No, I’ll sleep on the roof,” Steve said, “Of course with me in it.” 

“I’m not sharing a bed with a madman without the benefits.” 

And Danny hadn’t actually meant that they should fuck. Except, apparently he had and apparently Steve had too.}

Steve shifts on the mattress, tilting his head for a quick glance. He surprises Danny with a quickly worded but deeply sincere correction. “I’m not trying to rush you.” 

Danny blinks. He hadn’t really thought that, but he’s so accustomed to hitting every ball Steve throws at him that this time he had maybe forgotten not to swing. 

“I just want that contact,” Steve explains, in one of those rare moments of voluble candor that Danny has come to treasure. “And I don’t _care_ about what side of it I'm on, so prove me wrong!” 

“Prove what wrong?” Danny narrows his eyes. 

“That I knew what I was doing,” Steve doesn’t even try to bite back his smirk, rocking his hips against the mattress in pure pornographic suggestion. It’s meant playfully, Danny knows, but he suspects Steve also knows how effectively sexy the move is. Danny is speechless. 

Steve’s expression goes mischievous in the blink of an eye, unable to resist mashing at buttons until he gets a response, “Unless this was a front because you're scared of butt stuff?"

Danny gapes at him before bursting out with, "Scared of—are you fucking kidding me? I’ll show you what I’m talking about."

He grabs the discarded bottle of lube, nearly dropping it in his haste. He keeps his gaze trained firmly on Steve as he gives the bottle a vigorous shake and then a firm smack with his palm to get the liquid to trickle out over his fingers. Steve’s halfway into this bottle. He wonders what that means. How Steve’s been using it. If it’s been used on—no. Not going there. That’s over with. Don’t open that can of worms in your own brain. 

Steve muffles his laughter into the pillow, but Danny still hears the suggestion of his mirth loud and clear. 

{Later, in the afterglow, after a sleepy pause, Danny will roll over and ask, "Did you really say ‘butt stuff’?” 

Steve, even half asleep, will urgently mutter, "It moved things along, didn't it?" 

He’ll be unable to help the kneejerk: "I'M JUST SAYI—” 

Steve will cut him off. "Next time I’ll be sure to request that you anally penetrate me."

Danny will huff, "That’s fuckin’ horrible, you're never getting laid again."  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
"Wanna bet?"}

Danny very slowly and deliberately lubes up his fingers, generous with the viscous fluid over the tips and knuckles until it’s dripping onto the sheets, because Steve is being his typical obstreperously stubborn self, and Danny’s got a point to make here.

“Of course you’re getting it all over my sheets,” Steve says with an amused snort, and Steve drags a knee up the bed, thighs spread just enough apart to reveal the impeccably groomed furl of his hole. He should’ve known Steve would be bare. He’s the sort to do that just for sexual partners. Steve isn’t exactly vain, and god knows he doesn’t bother with niceties a lot of the time, preferring to shoot through the jugular, but there’s a part of Steve that knows very much how he’s watched and perceived. Steve is, at his core, the most selfless man he knows, but there is a protective layer of brusk efficiency obscuring it. He’s constructed himself to be as operationally effective as possible and he does what it takes to get the job done. Want to make it easier to get head or a rimjob? Wax it all off. Of course.

Danny realizes he’s been quiet too long in his half-awed contemplation and clears his throat. He blusters, "Quit doing that!" with a hand gesture for Steve’s everything. 

Steve cranes his head back over his shoulder and shoots him the look he only ever reserves for Danny. "Oh, I'm sorry, is this too much for you?"

He shifts again, spreading his thighs wider, revealing the soft vulnerable bulk of his sac at the V of his groin. 

Danny swallows and then shakes his head. He’s gotta get back in the game. He’s never been knocked off his feet by sex before. Danny’s confident in the bedroom, always has been, but this is—"Too much for me? It would be too much for anyone. You know that. It's ridiculous, what you're doing,” he bites out. 

But he knows Steve catches the blush on his cheeks and the way he can’t stop stroking the unfairly smooth peachskin of Steve’s upper thigh with his unlubed hand. 

“Just slick me up and get to it,” Steve says, but he sounds unexpectedly hoarse, and Danny’s gratified to note he too is flustered with his own arousal, eyes going up and down Danny’s abs and chest and down over his bobbing erection. 

And that’s fine. He’s not letting Steve rush him. He’s being purposeful about this. Some people don’t like a lot of fingering. Steve obviously has some experience and trust enough in Danny’s own for him to take him at his word. 

“Bottom’s up,” Danny says in warning anyway as he pushes his fingers inside. Steve’s hole is shockingly tight, clutching the digits together, but Danny can tell from the way Steve exhales, a motion Danny feels inside and out, that Steve’s used to the sensation. 

Danny bends and twists his fingers, trying to rub the internal walls of Steve’s hole as much as possible, really get him wet. He deals with the condom while Steve eyes him up, and maybe that gets him to make a bit of a show of it, grabbing Steve’s hips and tugging him down the bed so that they’re even, a show of pure masculine strength he would only rarely use on a woman, because he doesn’t need to terrify his partners. 

He wants to ask, “What are you thinking?” before he lines up, but he knows how deeply allergic Steve is to articulating emotions and desires. Danny’s a firm believer in enthusiastic consent and an eager communicator besides, but there’s nobody alive who understands Steve better than Danny. Steve’s here in this bed with him, he gave Danny his back, and he trusts him to do this. So he takes that offered carte blanche, spreads Steve’s cheeks wider still, gets his thumbs on his hole to hold him open, and starts to gently work himself inside. 

Steve has other ideas though. He surges back into Danny, and the next thing Danny knows he’s buried balls deep to the hilt in Steve, pressed in as far as he could go. 

Danny gasps, because who the fuck can just take all of him in one go? Who even wants to take all of him the way Steve is right now? Danny isn’t obscenely large, but he’s got a lot to work with. Or as his brother used to say—God’s apology for making him a shrimp. He doesn’t think he’s ever had his whole damn cock inside someone’s ass before. He wouldn’t have even thought to try. 

"Is this some super SEAL trick? Practice how to absorb incoming missiles?" Danny pants. 

Steve raises his head off the pillow, indelible smirk visible in profile, and says, "Maybe I just like to be fucked." Danny nearly swallows his tongue. Never in a million years did he expect Steve to say that. He had looked at Steve and assumed that—well, he didn’t know what. Steve had always been remarkably closed off about his sex life. He’d known more from Melissa, who’d heard it all from Lynn, than he’d ever known from Steve’s own mouth. Sometimes the things she’d relayed had made him uncomfortable before he ever really understood why that was. 

"Maybe it’s natural talent and you’ve never seen it before" Steve reverts to banter. He very showily clears his throat. Danny feels it through his body, and it makes his eyes cross. 

"So grandmaster, are you gonna get the show on the road? Show me a few things?" Steve teases. 

Danny blows out a breath. God. Not even now, with Danny’s cock stuffed inside him can he give an inch. "You know some people appreciate finesse and skill, they don't want to just pound it out like they're stamping license plates!"

Steve wriggles a little, and Danny catches the way his lips part like he felt something he liked, even as he volleys back with, "I didn't realize finesse was just sitting still, pontificating."

"Real men prepare, Steven,” Danny replies, all his muscles gone tight. He just needs a minute here, to get his bearings. He should’ve known Steve would be as overwhelming and rapidly decisive in bed as he is in the field. “They don't just throw themselves off the bridge without knowing where they're going to land. Just give me a second, patience is a virtue—" Danny doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore. 

Steve snickers. "You're gonna come if you move, aren't you?" 

"Let me just. For once in your life, please, do me the favor of shutting up. Just once."

And then the bane of his existence cranes his head around and gives him a fucking wink. Danny’s cock gets impossibly even harder. Fuck but Steve can always find him where he lives. He waits one more beat in silent protest, but then slowly rocks in and out, enjoying the hot cling of Steve’s body. Perfect. So fucking perfect. Of course it’s perfect. He’s going to be wrecked for anybody else after this; it seems only fair to do the same. He leans forward and threads his arm around Steve’s chest, pulling him into each thrust, digging his knees into the mattress to really get the strength of his quads and hamstrings behind it. He may still be making a point about it. But only a little. Just so Steve doesn’t get ahead of himself. 

Danny watches Steve’s face as he does it, searching out any sign of how Steve feels, but aside from Steve biting at his lower lip, he isn’t giving much away. Steve might be the most difficult lay Danny’s ever had. His ex-wife wouldn’t even rank in comparison. In the bedroom everything had always been very straightforward, whereas here he feels like he needs a damn decoder ring. 

“Tell me how it feels,” he demands. 

Steve mutters something unintelligible into the pillows.

"What is this, charades? Tell me how it feels," Danny asks again, nipping Steve’s shoulder in warning. He leaves the dangling threat of "or I'll stop" hanging in the air.

“It feels good, of course you’d be a monster about this,” Steve bites out, sounding winded.

Danny regrets asking. One, because he never expected that that incredible gut punch of arousal he just got would ever be paired with the word ‘monster’. Although, why is he surprised? Steve lives to defy convention. Hurling epithets while getting nailed is apparently part of that. But two, and this really is the larger problem, when Steve uses that tone of voice, panting like he’s just run down a perp, Danny’s not sure how he’s supposed to keep from losing his nut, and he is not going to come before Steve, that is a completely unlivable prospect, especially with the way Steve maligned his staying power not even moments ago. 

He shifts to find a different angle and Steve’s soft groan is devastating. The way his impressive musculature (if you like that sort of a thing and Danny's not saying he does, although yes, obviously, fuck Steve for being a lovable nutcase wrapped up in such a gorgeous package) goes taut is disastrous. Danny’s got years of pent-up arousal and lust he’s trying to hold at bay here. It feels too fucking good to finally have it in the flesh. He tries to will himself to hold on, but it only takes two more strokes and then he’s squeezing his eyes shut tight and coming like a teenager

He extricates himself like the gentleman he is, holding the condom onto his cock, before collapsing onto his back. 

“Just gimme a minute,” he says to head off Steve’s inevitable ribbing, before heaving himself up off the bed to get rid of the condom in the en suite. 

When he comes back into the room, he finds that Steve’s rolled over, thick erection angry and tight against his belly. Danny’s honestly surprised anybody has ever managed to survive him. How could you with a man that beautiful willing to do all manner of dirty things with you? Danny wonders what his plan of attack should be, maybe he should take Steve apart with his mouth. Danny is (“No, not because I ‘talk’ too much, Steve!”) a very dedicated partner when it comes to oral. 

“Well, now you have to let me fuck you,” Steve says, eyes heavy lidded. 

Danny flops heavily down onto his back. "Never said I wouldn't, although I shudder to think what you would do to me."

Steve moves in closer to him on the bed, holding his gaze. "Ah no, now."

Danny lifts his head. "Now?" How is it that after all these years of ridiculous hijinks, Steve can still completely knock him off his feet. To the ceiling, Danny says, "Now, he says, you hear that? I must be asleep."

"You insinuated you could do a better job than I could, but CLEARLY—"

Danny can’t help the garbled noise of outrage that spills out of his mouth, which is why he has absolutely no answer for the fact that mere minutes later Steve’s got a hand working between his thighs, slowly getting him ready and warmed up even though he just fucking came. It must be the positively drugging kisses Steve is laying on him. They’re intense and deep and Danny is completely undone by them. No other kiss has ever felt like this. 

Oh whatever, fine, he’ll let Steve pound it out, and prove to himself that this was a terrible idea. Danny will claim this moral victory. He's not above a few moments of discomfort to rub Steve's fool face in it. 

Only, the problem is, Steve is touching him like he’d made a study of it over the years, stored up data on all the ways to make Danny blow his stack, literally and figuratively. When his cock twitches with the stirrings of another erection, Danny looks down his own body in mute betrayal. It shouldn't even be possible. He's in his forties. There are rules. Who does he file a complaint with? Why couldn’t Steve be bad in bed? Danny would’ve happily had sex with him anyway, because he’s fucked in the head like that, but the sheer high of Steve being a disaster in this arena would’ve fed him for months. Years, even.

But no, here they are, Danny’s thighs parting around Steve’s hips, a groan low in his throat as Steve smoothly slides inside. He's literally nothing like Danny expected. Oh no, because life isn’t fair, he’s measured and slow, grinding in close so that his abs rub against Danny's cock.

"I hate you," Danny breathes, resigned, even as he reaches a hand up above his head to hold onto the headboard.

And because Steve is forever trying to get him killed, this is the exact moment he leans in to brush a kiss over the shell of ear and whispers, “You fucked me really, really good, Danno,” and Danny wants to groan, because no, that name should never be used for sex, but god is it doing things to his insides, and—”you better be prepared to do it again, because even though I didn't orgasm, I have never,” Steve punctuates this with a firm rolling thrust that Danny feels all the way down to his toes, “fucked somebody as good as you.” 

Steve knocks their foreheads together and Danny involuntarily tightens his thighs around his waist, because if they could be any fuckin’ closer than this, Danny would find a way. 

He realizes when Steve comes inside him that he never put a condom on, and Danny wants to be so mad about that, but the hot gush inside feels so good that he can’t even summon up a slight irritation. He knows Steve’s clean, the man ends up in a hospital often enough they’ve probably sequenced his genome by now, but Danny might not be. He’s slept with a few more people than Steve has in the past year, because he didn’t know he could have the hottest most irritating fuck of his life if he just asked for it. 

“You’re safe, Danno,” Steve says, and Danny doesn’t know what he means, but “they checked when you were in the hospital after Leslie.” 

And god, it’s such a colossal violation that Steve has that information when Danny didn’t even know himself, but Danny’s never been afraid to be laid bare to Steve. A saner person would be so freaked out by it, but Danny can’t be, because it’s not like he isn’t nearly as bad. If anything, he’s worse, because he has persisted through every roadblock Steve has ever attempted to throw up.

Steve’s hand closes around him, stroking him strong and sure, and he comes a second time, giving himself over to it. Steve is still inside him. If Danny’s eyes are tearing up at the corners, Steve had better goddamn keep it to himself. 

“I love you,” Danny says, because he had a girlfriend for nearly four years and couldn’t say it to her once, but out it comes for Mr. I-Jump-Off-Buildings-After-A-Near-Fatal-Liver-Transplant. 

Steve cups his jaw and kisses him again, and again, and again, but Danny doesn’t miss the whispered ‘me too.’ 

*

The next morning, he finds himself blinking blearily as the mattress moves underneath him. He watches Steve roll carefully out of bed. It’s still mostly dark outside, but it’ll take hell or high water to prevent Steve from doing his early morning iron man triathlon. Steve putters around the room, movements soft in a way Danny’s never really seen outside of an opp, as he pulls on shorts and looks for his shoes. When the slice of dim light falls across Steve’s back, Danny is startled to see red welts scored evenly down across it. Where did that—oh god, Danny did that. Steve’s never gonna give him his dignity back. He doesn’t even know how he managed it with his blunt chewed off nails. 

Unaware of Danny watching him, Steve brushes a hand over his shoulder as he straightens up, fingers running over a scratch. They stutter to a halt, pressing in over the marks, and Danny breathes in as soft as he possibly can. He watches Steve’s eyes flutter closed like he's savoring it, and feels his inevitable morning wood grow more insistent. 

Maybe being up at 5 fucking AM isn’t so bad. Yeah, he's sore in places he didn't even know he had, because having sex with Steve is like trying to scale a class 5 mountain, but he thinks he could be up for round three when Steve gets back. After a little more sleep of course.

**Author's Note:**

> ♥
> 
> Stay safe everybody! And if you like this brand of crazy, you can find me on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/fourfreedoms_)


End file.
